Harry Potter and the Mirror of Madness
by Lucedivita
Summary: Story is told primarily through the eyes of Hermione, Ron and Madeline. Hermione becomes Madeline's mentor as she uses her understanding of science to do things with magic that up until now were considered unimaginable. Harry has a small part as the Greek plotline continues to develop. Canon pairings. Series ends with Final DH Chapter.
1. MM 00 - Introduction and Prologue

**MM 00 - Introduction and Prologue**

**I had no part in the creation of the Harry Potter Universe. J.K. Rowling owns both the Harry Potter Universe and a small part of my heart.**

**Intro: **A few small housekeeping items before the story begins._Mirror of Madness_ is compartmentalized so that you can read it without spoiling many of the secrets that _Aphrodite's Kiss_ holds. Some secrets will be impossible to hide. If you want the full experience then I recommend you read _Aphrodite's Kiss_ before you read _Mirror of Madness_. That said, enough secrets will be kept that _Aphrodite's Kiss_ will still be enjoyable if you read this story first.

_Mirror of Madness_ will include the same ensemble cast that you've grown used to. Expect to see Winky, Victoire, Teddy and Fleur. Mrs. Black, Neville and Luna might just begin to creep into more action as well. The series ends as the Deathly Hollows foretells: Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione, Draco and Astoria, etc. etc. Unless George Takei pops up into one of Dumbledore's portraits, there will be no same sex pairings...though all of the characters are absolutely fine with same sex relationships, of course (Thank you, George Seinfeld).

Want alerts as I post chapters? Click **"Follow Story"** at the bottom of this page and fanfiction will send you email alerts each time I post a new chapter. If you've finished _Aphrodite's Kiss_ then remove your **"Follow Story"** for that book. Also, if you don't want annoying emails every time I repost a Coward's Folly or Aphrodite's Kiss edit then please remove your **"Author Alert."**

**Now, a small anippet of the story.**

**ZZZZZZZ**

Hermione had always had an easy time with the wand. Despite what many thought, her ease had little to do with talent and loads to do with incessant practise. It was no surprise that the treasure that followed her up the steps to the attic at Grimmauld Place never scraped a wall or scarred a corner.

The young witch knew who was waiting for her at the top of the steps. She cared little.

"What are you doing up here, Mudblood?" the portrait hissed.

"I come bearing gifts," Hermione smiled. She hadn't even bothered to slow her stride. The young witch flicked her wand and the item fastened itself to the wall opposite of the portrait with ease.

"What is it?" Mrs. Black asked suspiciously.

Hermione toyed with the portrait, "What do you see?"

"Oh my," Mrs. Black gushed as she began to stare into the mirror that hung from the wall. That would be the only answer the Mudblood would get.

"That's what I thought," Hermione grinned. "I will make a deal with you, Mrs. Black. I must keep this hidden or Harry will have my head. If you agree to allow me to look at the mirror in peace when i am up here then you may use it as you please when I am away."

"Just how often do you plan to make use of it?" Mrs. Black asked darkly.

"Not as often as you might think," Hermione answered gravely, "but often enough to annoy you immensely."

The old lady in the portrait stroked her chin thoughtfully, "While I dare say, I enjoy the idea very much of the Potter boy having your head..." the portrait's dark eyes were already locked on the grand looking mirror just over Hermione's shoulder, "...I do find your offer rather appealing. How does it do that?"

"The images?" Hermione asked. "I'm not quite sure."

"For now, then," Mrs. Black answered sweetly...too sweetly, "I shall put up with your visits. That is, if you can make them few and far between."

"Brilliant."

Already, the portrait of Mrs. Black had decided to ignore Hermione as she focused on the mirror that had been position across from her. Even so, the young witch had to ask, "Out of curiosity, what do _you_ see?"

"What do _**you**_ see?" the elder witch replied curtly.

Hermione glanced back sadly, "Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Neither do I, then," Mrs. Black answered stoically, "I see nothing at all."

**ZZZZZZZ**

**A/N continued: **

My goal with this story is to keep it to 75,000-100,000 words. I hope the small snippet helps you decide whether you want to continue. There will also be some science involved as well. I hope Hermione's mixture of science and magic proves as entertaining to you as the references to Greek mythology proved for those reading Aphrodite's Kiss. As always, please let me know what you think as you read - even if you don't like it. I cannot stress enough how much I appreciated the honesty of readers like Tom Kristal and others. It makes me a better writer.

Cheers!

Lucedivita


	2. MM 01 - Cold Fusion

Chapter 1 – Cold Fusion

**Submitted: 24 February 2013 **

**A/N: The story deals with loss but is not as sad as you might think. On one side, Hermione and Ron have lost a daughter...Madeline has lost both of her parents. Most of the story will be told through the eyes of Hermione, Ron and Madeline but Harry will play a part through the Greek storyline I've previously established. Hermione buries herself in her work and uses her talents to combine magic and Muggle technology to create wonders were considered unimaginable. The first chapter involves a little science but it only to sets up the story. Make my day and write a review. I don't mind flames - if your being honest. **

Thick walls of concrete provided the illusion of security. Located on the grounds of the recently closed nuclear power plant, Calder Hall, Operation Black Box was England's answer to the electricity shortage that was expected as the country's nuclear plants were gradually decommissioned. For years, nuclear power had been considered both risky and dangerous. The cost of storing the waste was rising quickly and England needed an alternative.

A year before, the Chair for Health and Safety had been presented with a paper titled _Hydrogen Fusion for Commercial Purposes._ The author was little more than an auditor of Cambridge's undergraduate physics program but the megawatts of electricity she had proposed she could release out a kilogram of hydrogen were impressive. Critics were convinced that while the paper was brilliant there were still practical obstacles that kept her from sustaining fusion. The author's reply, in writing, was one simple word, _"Rubbish!" _

A year later, she performed her initial demonstration in front of a bloke who spent most of his time sweating through his shirts and breathing through his mouth. As he watched her 'black box' hum to life he began to hyperventilate. Two hundred megawatts of electricity were instantly added to the grid and the hundreds of lights that she'd gathered in the room quickly became one great blinding vision.

Today's demonstration was held within the concrete walls of Calder Hall. The powers that be could not fathom the idea that so much power could be generated without the need of some sort of radioactive shielding. As they stood in the recently decommissioned reactor, the Ministers for This and That oohed and ahhed at her beautiful display. At the request of her sweaty ally she'd added a few visuals such as a fake coolant tank and piping around the box that made it look more like what a "power generating device should look like."

As the lights blazed and the reactors fake coolant tank gurgled, it was the Chair for Health and Safety who truly understand the repercussions of what she was seeing. She began firing off questions, "How does it work?"

Hermione had been waiting for this question all along, "It's quite simple really. I began with a hydrogen funnel. Two hydrogen are pushed together with great force until they combine to make helium. This creates a tremendous amount of energy which moves a molecular turbine within the box. The result is roughly 200 megawatts of electricity."

The Chair looked unconvinced but instead of arguing she asked another question, "Is it safe? It can't be made into a hydrogen bomb, can it?"

"No," the young witch answered emphatically. "If someone tampers with the box in any way then the hydrogen is released and the heat dissipates quickly as the innards melt. The only real danger is that the sudden loss of power might create problems for the region's electrical grid."

"What does that mean?" one of the Ministers asked.

Hermione held in a sigh, "It means there could potentially be a blackout."

The bloke asked the next obvious question, "You mean there'd be no power?"

Chairwoman Billingsley regretted allowing outsiders into the demonstration. She rolled her eyes, "Yes, Frank. No power." She turned to Hermione, "Most of the fusion proposals we've been presented so far produce a certain amount of radioactive waste. What sort of waste are we speaking about?"

"Only Helium." Hermione presented her most charming smile, "It's absolutely clean and isn't radioactive in any way."

"The cost?" Mrs. Billingsley was prepared for the worst.

"The box itself is no charge and the cost of the hydrogen is incidental," Hermione offered, "but I am to be paid two pence per kilowatt hour generated in royalties."

The room grew silent as the Ministers waited for Chairwoman's response. Most were at the presentation only in a ceremonial capacity. Few of them knew the true cost of electricity in England and even fewer could perform more than the most basic arithmetic in their head. By this time, the conversation was pretty much between Chairwoman Billingsley and Hermione, "And why, young lady, have you not simply sold these patents to the Americans or the French. You could sell this technology for well more than you are offering to us."

Hermione smiled, "Because I'm the only one who can actually build the boxes. They wouldn't be able to replicate the technology if I showed them how."

Mrs. Billingsley let out a loud "harrumph!" Once the laughter had died down the Chairwoman remarked condescendingly, "I find that difficult to believe, my dear. You pass the specifications to our engineers and they will have replicated hundreds of your device in a matter of days."

The young witch smirked, "Believe what you will. An hour ago you were sceptical that controlled fusion was possible at all."

ZZZZZZZ

The black box could _**not**_ be replicated...at least not by Muggles. Each box required a complicated sequence of charms that contained the hydrogen once it entered the box. The funnel was actually a magically stabilized magnetic field that was powered by a small amount of the energy generated by the box. The box itself could have been much smaller but Hermione was well aware of the importance of appearances. She could have fit the entire device in a small jewellery box if she'd wanted but then she'd have to refill the hydrogen once a week rather than once every year.

As she turned off the lights, she thought about all the time and effort that had culminated in today's demonstration. Hours of research had been necessary. Now this was just one more project she could check off of her list.

Harry's wedding had been the impetus for her returning to her work. There were only so many days she could mope around the house in her fuzzy bunny slippers. Madeline had been invaluable as well. Truth be told, Hermione and Madeline got on much better than Harry and Madeline. The young witch couldn't help but be intrigued by the dozens of projects that Hermione had going on at once.

One afternoon Hermione had been sitting in the library that adjoined her room and Madeline popped in. Madeline Mason had moved into Grimmauld Place soon after her parents' deaths. Like any other teenage witch she was overcome by boredom and she soon found herself wandering the house for things to do. When the young witch popped into the library, Hermione watched as the young girl's apprehension quickly turned to wonder.

Plans for expanding pockets and fusion reactors had been spread all about the desks. Ideas for a new virtual gaming machine and charmed robots that performed all manner of tasks were pinned to a board on the wall. There was even a design for a space craft that might use her fusion reactor to travel all of the way to Mars – but Madeline couldn't imagine any reason why a wizard would want to visit Mars. The Sun, maybe, but not Mars.

Madeline spent the remainder of that holiday prodding Hermione to finish the fusion idea. Hermione might not have met her deadline if the younger witch had not pushed her so hard. By the time the young witch had left for her Fifth Year at Hogwarts, Hermione was so inspired that she'd finished all but the last details by the time the winter holiday had arrived. Another six months and the presentation had been ready. Hermione only wished she could have brought Madeline with her.

But Madeline didn't mind. She was happily waiting for Hermione when she arrived home, "How did it go?"

"They bought it," Hermione replied excitedly. "They want five more just like it by the end of the year."

Madeline nodded knowingly, "To cover the nuclear plant that was shut down?"

The elder witch nodded enthusiastically, "If you want you can help with the simpler spells. They'll take a few weeks and the work is stressful but you'll learn a loads about charms."

"What about the laws governing underage magic?"

Hermione banished the thought away with a hand, "Bah, there's so much magic used in here that they'd never know the difference. I assure you that when you return to Hogwarts you'll be so far ahead of the other students that the professors will have you tutoring." Hermione had been putting away her notes, "But that doesn't mean you need to tell Harry about it."

Madeline quieted her voice, "I was told by Professor McGonagall that _**you**_ were the stickler for rules. She warned me that you might be cross if I didn't mind myself when I was here. She seemed to think it would be Harry that would..."

"...Get you into mischief?" Hermione grinned, "Give it time. Harry will have you in loads of mischief before you know it. All the same, the laws governing underage magic are archaic and grossly unfair. Most of the Pure Bloods rarely adhere to them and the Department for Magical Enforcement overlooks that minor detail. The Ministry likely set me back an entire year because I wasn't able to practise at home. As long as you promise to perform magic only in my presence while you are here then I'll accept any fault if you are caught."

Madeline had rarely smiled since her mum had been killed. Hermione's offer gave the young witch ample reason to grin from ear to ear.

Hermione couldn't help but fancy the young lady's curiosity. It wouldn't be a summer afternoon if she wasn't sitting in the workshop poring over Hermione's notes trying to make sense of what her mentor was trying to accomplish. Secretly, Madeline wondered if Hermione allowed her so much leeway because she blamed herself for her mum's death.

Then again, Hermione had acted rather odd ever since her miscarriage. As awful as Madeline's loss was, she couldn't fathom the idea of losing a child. Ron still would sit downstairs for hours at a time staring blankly at nothing in particular. He and his wife could go days a time without talking. Both buried themselves into their work. Madeline wondered why they'd bothered marrying at all.

The Weasley's marriage had been precisely the opposite of the Potter ceremony. _Inauspicious_ had been the word used by Rita Skeeter at the Daily Prophet. Ron and Hermione Weasley were wed on a Wednesday at the recently completed Burrow. Immediate family and a few of the bride's close mates rounded out the guest list.

There was no great party that June afternoon. Both Ron and Hermione had put on a good show but no-one in attendance was fooled.

Madeline knew that it wasn't Hermione's fault that her mum was killed. Her mum had explained to her years before that her job was dangerous but that she did it because it was important. If anything, she knew that it had been the wizards that had attacked the Burrow that had been at fault for her mum's death.

Those wizards had escaped Azkaban and even now no-one was sure how they had done it. Madeline wanted to make sure such a thing never happened again. The young witch had an idea but her instincts told her that she'd need Hermione's ability to make it work.

Madeline jumped when Hermione tapped her on the arm, "Well?"

"What?" the young witch asked. She'd gotten lost in her thoughts.

"Can I count on you to only perform magic when I'm here to supervise you?" Hermione asked again.

"Oh. Yes, of course," Madeline promised.

"Excellent," her new mentor answered, "If you are willing to study and work hard then I will share secrets with you about the Universe that no-one would even dare consider."


	3. MM 02 The Unexpected Guest

**Chapter 2 – The Unexpected Dinner Guest**

**Submitted: Wed 6 Mar 2013 Last Submitted: February **

Voices could be heard just over a soft song playing in the background. A large chandelier burned fragrant oils over the table so that the slightest scent of lilac wafted out over the room. All the while, each of the chandelier's crystals glowed so that the table was bathed in a soft, quiet, comfortable light.

The dining room at 12 Grimmauld Place looked nothing like the dusty old dump that the Order of the Phoenix had used as a gathering place during the war. Soon after the war had ended, Harry had the entire place renovated. Before the renovations, the dining room would have been described as rustic by its kindest critic. The architect painstakingly redesigned every room with Harry's personality and tastes in mind. The dining room now seemed much larger and open than before. The furnishings and décor would never be confused with contemporary. Instead, they reflected the tastes of their owner: young but timeless, tasteful yet comfortable, valuable but not presumptuous.

Since June, when the younger witch had returned home from Hogwarts, Madeline and Hermione made it a habit to eat in the dining room. The table had been designed so it could be magically adjusted to fit the number of guests. Tonight the table was the size of that in any middle class home - six chairs gave it a cosy family feel. Far from a quiet lonely meal, Madeline and Hermione tended to talk magic when they ate. Tonight was no different.

Madeline swallowed a bite of pudding, "Do you really think it would work?"

Hermione smiled, "Of course. We'd only need to alter the position of the..." The elder witch trained her ear, "What was that?"

"Surprise!" Ron called from the stairs above. "Guess what I found at the Ministry!"

"Hullo!?" called out a familiar voice.

"Harry!" Hermione jumped up and met her mate at the foot of the stairs with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, "Oh my! Did you spend enough time in the sun?"

The freshly tanned wizard took a moment to admire his forearms. He could only imagine the rest of him shared the same bronze palette. He had spent two and three days at a time the past few months exploring the countryside of Greece with his mate Antiones. They'd visited markets in small towns, climbed mountains near Olympia, and treaded along seaside cliffs on water chariots in the Aegean. All that time in the sun had given him a nearly sun-kissed look.

"Oy," Ron mocked playfully as he groped one of the wizard's arms, "He's been lifting as well. Have a look!"

Harry flexed a bicep, "It's nothing really. It was necessary for my training. I'm serving as one of the sparring partners for Antiones's champion."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow, "Antiones is entering again? You didn't write me about that."

Harry shrugged, "He's very popular with the people. The very best swordsman in Delphi offered to represent him at the next Games."

"Games?" Madeline asked, "What are the Games?"

"The Pythian Games," Ron explained. "You'll have to come down with us to see them. They are absolutely brilliant."

"...And absolutely brutal," Hermione reminded her husband. The event that Ron was referring to was the Tournament of Champions. Held every four years during the Pythian Games, it was bloody sword fight in which the Helene, or the Greeks to outsiders, chose their ruler for the next four years. Every state was represented by a Champion. The winning Champion would choose the country's ruler for the next four years. Hermione shook her head, "The Tournament may be too violent for her."

"What?" Ron turned to Harry to protest, "There were witches at the Games much younger than Maddie last time. She should be able to go, right?"

Harry ignored Ron. Instead, he studied Hermione as if he were trying to solve a puzzle. Finally it came to him, "What did you do to your hair?

Ron crossed his arms, "She cut it all off."

"It's a pixie cut," Madeline answered excitedly. "It's very popular."

"It's..."

"Pink?" Hermione asked proudly. "Maddie cut it and coloured it for me. I told her I wanted something cheerful and she showed me this in a magazine. I thought to myself, 'How long will it be before I'm too old to wear a style like that?'"

"Three years ago?" Ron grumbled quietly.

Hermione's eyes narrowed, "What was that?"

"Three years or so," Ron corrected.

His wife didn't seem convinced at first but the Weasley boy flashed his most winning smile. Eventually her gaze softened, "How long are you back?"

"All of July and August," Harry answered as they headed back to the dining room. "I have the Quarterly Meeting for the Board of Regents next week. The Minister has asked that I sit in on a few committee meetings for developing a small market centre for wizards that have gathered to the Northwest. They've established an actual township and named it Coven's Cove. Ginny will have two weeks off at the end of August. It'll be a busy few months."

In the dining room, Kreacher was already setting down plates full of food for both wizards. Hermione watched as Harry stopped cold. While Kreacher was still fully capable, the elf's movements were much more deliberate and he took longer to perform each task. Kreacher took advantage of the pause to croak out, "Welcome back Master Harry. I saved you dinner."

Hermione nudged Harry. He stammered, "It looks delicious, Kreacher. Thank you."

The elf bowed formally as always. There was an extra kick in his step as he popped out with a 'Crack!'. Kreacher was always just a little more cheery when Harry was back home.

Ron had already tucked in and found his first mouthful of food, "Tell them about the sparring, Harry."

The young wizard took a moment to collect himself but finally he sat, "It's not all that interesting, really. I was taking sword lessons from Antiones when this bloke comes in and begins watching. He's twice my size and three times as quick, mind you. He sees me with the sword and says, 'My sparring partner fell ill and I'm left without someone to practise with. Would you care to have a go?' I didn't want to do it but Antiones begged me."

"Did you beat him?" Hermione asked.

"Me?" Harry asked. "I wish. He disarmed me three times before I had time to breathe. Antiones just sat in a corner cackling away as if it were the funniest thing he'd ever seen. By the end of the hour he mocked me saying I looked like a human pin cushion."

Ron grinned as he swallowed a big bite of pudding, "Tell them the rest."

"Anyhow, this bloke tells me when we are done that he could teach me a few things if I'd like to spar with him once a week. I said 'ok' before I thought better of it and we met once a week for a few months. Each session Antiones would sit in his corner and laugh and laugh. Personally I think Antiones payed the bloke to beat up on me each week so he'd have something to laugh about over dinner with all of our mates."

Hermione scowled, "Oh, that's cruel. Antiones wouldn't do that, would he?"

Harry smirked, "He might. Especially considering the drubbings I give him with a wand. I've been training him in secret. If his mates, or anyone in Greece, were to find out he was training with a wand then there's a chance he'd be ostracised. Even so, he wanted to learn and he's becoming shockingly good."

Madeline felt like she was missing something, "Wait, people in Greece don't use wands? How do they perform magic?"

"Oh, you have some learning to do," Hermione remarked. "We first visited Delphi a few years back and it was fascinating. There are so many things for you to experience there...Ron is right, you will need to come with us for the Pythian Games."

"When are they?" Madeline asked.

"Quiet!" Ron insisted. "Let the swordsman here finish his story."

All eyes returned to the wizard in the glasses. He swallowed a mouthful of tart, "What..? Oh, the story. Well, week after week we are sparring and sparring and I have my sword handed to me each and every time. Two weeks ago we are at it like usual and he begins wailing on me like never before. It's all I can do to keep my sword between me and his blade. I didn't know what had gotten into him but he was like a madman. Strike after strike...his blade came down and sparks flew around the gymnasium. I was worried for my life."

The story stopped abruptly as Harry took a bite of his treacle tart. His face filled with joy as he chewed it slowly. "Mmmm," he moaned as he happily popped in another mouthful, "Oh, you don't know how much I missed this while I was in Greece."

The trio sat there waiting as patiently as they could. Hermione finally tried to urge him on, "And?"

Harry closed his eyes as he relished the bite, "And Antiones had one of his cooks learn the recipe. Still, he doesn't hold a candle to Molly or Kreacher."

Madeline tried to suppress a smile as she watched her mentor begin to fume, "I think she meant the story."

"Oh! The story." The young wizard thought back to where he'd stopped, "So he's flailing and wailing away at me. I was on my knees because he'd thrown me off balance. He was so quick that I couldn't even get time to stand back up. Antiones had stopped laughing and was demanding we stop. The bloke lifted his sword up high to take the finishing blow and I saw it in his eyes...he was going to kill me. In desperation, I swiped at his knees."

Harry cleared his throat, "He was so intent on finishing me off that he hadn't expected my counter. He dodged but it threw his balance off. As he regained his footing I struck back and miraculously I disarmed him."

"That seems odd. Why was he so upset?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"Who cares?" Ron gushed. "Didn't you hear him? He disarmed a Champion!"

"It's like I said before," Harry reminded his mate, "It's hardly a big deal. It was only one time and he was distracted."

"Hardly a big deal? Hardly a big deal?" Ron slapped the table excitedly, "You outduelled a world class swordsman. That would be like Antiones coming up here and catching a snitch out from under your nose. Yes, it _**could **_happen but it would make the papers if it did."

Both Madeline and Hermione seemed equally impressed. This caused Harry to blush and he returned to his treacle tart. As he chewed happily on another mouthful, Hermione couldn't help but ask, "You never answered. Why was this bloke so angry with you?"

Harry shrugged, "It was like he was in a daze. When he came to he apologised over and over again. He said he didn't know what came over him. Honestly, I was so happy that I'd won the match that I didn't think much on it. It does seem a bit odd, though, doesn't it?"

Once again, Ron didn't like the direction the conversation was taking. He didn't want his wife brooding or obsessing over conspiracy theories. With Harry home, there was a good chance they'd go to bed in a good mood for a change. He raised his glass, "Of course, Hermione has news of her own. You want me to tell him or should you?"

His wife blushed but it didn't keep her from gushing, "They bought my project!"

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Which one? And who?" He was in his right to ask. She had so many projects going on at once that it was hard for him to know which one she was speaking about at any one time.

"The hydrogen one!" she squealed. "The Muggles! They bought the hydrogen one!"

"The one for the electricity?" Harry asked. "They bought the box? How much for?"

Her head bobbed up and down excitedly, "Just more than a half million pounds!"

"Blimey!" Harry was gobsmacked. "Half a million quid? How?"

Ron grinned, "That's just this year. There'll be another half million next year. And another half million next year. And..."

Harry was struck dumb. Hermione and Ron answered with devilish grins. Madeline let the couple relish in their good news a few moments before explaining further, "That's just for the one box. The Muggles want four more over the next six months. They've ordered another six for the year after and will pay her a half million a year for each box."

"But why?" Harry asked. "That's..."

Madeline finished the sentence for him, "A little more than five and a half million a year total for the eleven boxes...or about 800,000 Galleons. It was my idea. She was going to sell each box for a couple thousand pounds apiece. I showed her how my dad paid for electricity monthly and how the companies made their profits. George and I crunched some numbers at the Burrow one afternoon and we came up with her asking price."

Ron tapped his temple, "Between these two...bloody geniuses."

Harry smiled, "I knew you had it in you. How about the Ministry? Are you still active at the Department for Regulation of Magical Creatures?"

"Oh yes," Hermione grinned, "They have me working on all sorts of unusual research. Of course none of it has to do with anything practical or relating to policy. Little do they know that I'm working on a project that will change the Department forever."

"What is that?" Harry asked curiously.

"Oh, you'll see," the young witch teased, "when the time is right."

Madeline had an idea of what Hermione was referring to. Every afternoon after leaving the Ministry she'd head to Shell Cottage. Hermione was tight lipped about what she did there but talked all the time about the two young twin elves that had been born to Winky. Dumbles and Tinkles were the only free-born elves in all of England. If Madeline had a shred of instinct in her, she was sure that her mentor had plans for both of them.

**A/N: I've laid out a few potential storylines. What do you think so far?**


	4. MM 03 Secrets

**Chapter 3 – Secrets**

**Submitted: Wed 13 March 2013 Let me know what you think.**

* * *

Hermione popped into the kitchen at Shell Cottage and found Winky sorting freshly picked potatoes on a table next to the kitchen hearth. Happy with her haul, the floppy eared elf turned her attention to the cauldron. With no more than a gesture from her tiny little index finger, a fire blazed to life.

"I wish I could do that," the young witch remarked. "It fills me with wonder how elves came to serve humans and not the other way around."

"Winky does not know but she suspects that House Elves wished to serve always. No more joy comes to Winky than when Master Harry is happy. And Master Harry is happy when Misses Fleur is happy."

"That's not true," Hermione corrected her. "Harry is happiest when you are happy. He loves you _and_ both of your children."

"If Master Harry _**loved**_ Winky then Master Harry would not pay like a common _**Her**_. Winky would be a proper House Elf. Master Harry loves Kreacher."

And therein lie the problem. Winky would never understand that Harry had forced her to take pay for her services precisely because he cared so much for her. Hermione would never be able to get the elf to understand. The fact that Winky continued to live with Bill and Fleur so that her twins could play as equals with Victoire never dawned on her. Recently, Andromeda Tonks had taken to bringing Teddy to the Cottage on weekends so that he could play with the Weasley girl, Dumbles and Tinkles.

Dumbles and Tinkles were precisely the reason Hermione had dropped in. Every afternoon after Hermione left the Ministry she would check to see if the two elves had completed the previous day's lesson.

Winky eyed Hermione as the young witch listened for the little ones, "Misses Hermione will find the babies in Misses Victoire's room."

The stairs creaked with every step. Each made a different sound. For months, Hermione had wondered if Bill was either unable or too lazy to mend them. One day the young witch had offered to repair them herself but Fleur insisted otherwise, "Bill cast a charm on the steps so that anyone beesides me and him will cause them to creak. Hee is obsessed with securitee more than ever after what happened at the Burrow."

The stairs did their job. As she topped the steps, Hermione was ambushed by three creatures that quickly wrapped themselves around her legs, "Auntie 'Erminee!"

"Have you completed your lessons?" she asked the trio.

Little Dumbles nodded his head seriously. Much like his namesake, the pint-sized elf was always interested in learning something new. Sometimes, though, Hermione wondered if he weren't a little more like Snape. The elves were still very young but centuries of breeding allowed them to mature faster than humans. Dumbles had the understanding of a child twice his age although he was only two years old.

"How about you lot?" she asked the little girls wrapped around her left leg.

Tinkles shook her head defiantly. She was the polar opposite of her twin. Dumbles was always serious and studious but his sister couldn't care less about learning reading or writing of even magic. Already she was a smaller carbon copy of her mum. Big blue eyes and floppy ears gave her the look of a big-headed hairless bunny rabbit. She even had two big front teeth to finish out the look.

"I did!" Victoire squealed triumphantly. "I writed the whole alphamabet."

"Nuh uh," Tinkles tattled. "Vicksy got Dumbles to help. He showed her the _holed_ thing. Dumbles writed her 'S' _**and**_ 'G' for her." The little elf looked very serious as she explained, "Vicksy can't make squiglies."

Victoire glared at her accuser, "I did too. I writed on top of his."

Tinkles always called Victoire 'Vicksy.' She couldn't pronounce Victoire. It was little wonder why all of the elves names seemed like children's names. The elves had been forced from birth into servitude. The midwife would care for them for the first year but from the moment they could walk they were asked to do menial tasks. It made Hermione sick that they never had an equal opportunity at a formal education as humans. Her goal was to have these two young free elves ready for Hogwarts by their eleventh year so that the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures had no reason to decline her request to make them the first non-human students.

Hermione sighed, "Did you at least try, Tinkles?"

Again Tinkles shook her head, "Mum says Tinkles don't have to 'cause Misses Hermione isn't my Master. Mum says proper house Elfses don't learn no alphamabets cause good house elfses does house elf stuff. Tinkles is going to grow up like Mum and be a proper house elf but Mum is going to get Tinkles a proper Master and not be paided."

Before Hermione could argue, the tiny elf had disappeared.

This was the first time that Tinkles had outright crossed Hermione. Up to now the young elf had manufactured excuses why she'd shirked her studies. Hermione hadn't been aware that Winky was so against her daughter learning. Certainly, Winky had made disparaging comments about how alphabets and reading were a waste of time for elves. Even so, Winky had never seemed upset with the young witch.

Dumbles looked ready to cry. Regardless of his ability to speak or think on a four year old level, emotionally he was still a two year old boy. Even a fully grown elf didn't handle conflict well. As Hermione contemplated what to do next, the little boy tugged on her blouse to get her attention, "Dumbles wants'ta learn. Dumbles don't wanna be no House Elf. Dumbles wants to be free like 'Erminee says."

Victoire agreed, "I do too. I wanna be free too. Dumbles and me is going to be free together. We're gonna build a castle and we are gonna be kings and queens and we're gonna make alls of everyones freed."

Hermione worried about Tinkles. She wondered sometimes if the closeness that Dumbles and Victoire shared made her draw away from them and rely on her mum for guidance. Winky was well meaning but if the elves as a race were going to realise their potential and recognise their right to freedom then they would need these two young elves to show them what was possible.

**ZZZZZZZZ**

Harry sat alone end of the table the long table. Merlin Hall reminded him of one of those seedy establishments where backroom deals were made. Seldom used, the chamber had a dodgy quality. Located in the Hogwarts Basement, the Board of Regents had met here for centuries.

When Harry first learned that Merlin was a Slytherin his heart skipped a beat. It took confirmation from a Chocolate Frog card for him to believe it. Apparently, the school named the chamber after the famous wizard soon after he was made the personal advisor to the mighty King Arthur. Now it was just a another dark dusty room where wizards who thought they were much more important than they really were would convene quarterly to discuss the future of such important topics as the future of the Whomping Willow.

"I say we dig the bloody thing up," announced William Prigg. William was a slightly built Slytherin who'd graduated a good two decades before Harry.

Draco massaged his temples, "Why?" Even Malfoy had limited patience for the never ending list of motions made by the members. Each Regent had an agenda which was usually fuelled by parents who used their pocketbook to exert their influence.

"He's always had a grudge against that ruddy tree," another Regent chuckled. "He's been trying to do away it since I can remember."

Harry couldn't help but agree when Draco rolled his eyes. While the two had shared more than a few heated arguments in this chamber, both had learned that sitting through hours of discussion over such crap subjects as "Removal of Whomping Willow" was in neither of their interests. Draco, being the chair of the Board was unable to make a motion. Harry, on the other hand, was always willing to force a vote if it meant getting out of a meeting even ten minutes sooner.

"I move we take this to a vote," Harry called out lazily.

"But we haven't discussed the merits," protested Prigg.

"Second," answered an anonymous Regent.

"But," Prigg was turning beet red, "We need to hash this through."

"Those for the digging up of the Whomping Willow?" Draco asked as he ignored the beet-faced Regent.

Ignoring Prigg's protest, Draco asked, "Against?"

"NAY!" answered a chorus of Regents. Harry was as loud as any of them.

"The Nays have it," Malfoy announced. "...Sorry, Prigg, motion didn't carry. Any more new business from the floor?"

Draco seemed almost giddy when no-one answered, "Then, I have one last announcement before we wrap this up. One of the professors is retiring! Anyone willing to wager on which one?"

Each of the Regents blurted out names of elder Professors. Some sounded more hopeful than others.

"Trelawney?"

"That cow Sinistra?"

"Flitwick?"

"Hagrid?"

"Slughorn?"

Harry almost lost it when Draco performed his signature double-take on poor Robert Oliver. The Slytherin squenched his nose as if there was a bad smell in the room, "Did your mother drink while you were in the womb? Slughorn's been retired two whole years!"

Draco took no time to cheer back up, "Professor McGonagall, the Headmistress herself!"

Harry sat up, "Bloody Hell! You didn't consider that this would be a proper subject to bring up at the beginning of our meeting? Who's going to take her place?"

It was obvious to everyone in the room that Draco was doing his best to hold in his laughter. As the Slytherin sat back in his chair, he propped up his feet on the table and answered as evenly as he could, "Why, Potter, that job falls upon us."

"But...I thought the Wizengamut..?" Harry's total loss of composure was making Malfoy's afternoon.

"No," Draco grinned, "The Wizengamut usually confirms our choice. The only exception was when the Minister removed the Interim tag from McGonagall a few years back after You-Know-Who's death."

"You mean _**Riddle**_?" And just like that Harry regained the upper hand. Harry could tell that it irked Malfoy that he could get to him so easily.

"Yes, Potter." Malfoy kicked his feet off the large table, "The reason I waited until the end of the meeting to bring this up is that I didn't want bad blood over this to make every decision drag on today. Besides, we'll need to consider the merits of each of the candidates."

"You already have a list?" Harry grouched. "How does this work?"

This was the sixth meeting that Harry and Draco had attended together. Draco had been named Chair before Harry had been added to the Board. Despite his lack of experience, his mother had arranged a voting bloc around him that was made up of Slytherins and other Regents that received financial favours from the Malfoy family. With Harry's arrival several of the Regents flipped on the Malfoys and now they were evenly matched.

Because Malfoy was Chair he could only vote in a tie. He had four votes that would follow him regardless of the merits of an idea. Harry had three votes plus himself. This left three remaining votes that the two would constantly wrestle over.

"Don't worry, **P**otter." Malfoy made sure to catch the eye of each Regent as he glanced around the table, "We will convene a special session in a week's time to choose the best replacement for the Headmistress. I have packets for each of you that include the records for each candidate, a list of the qualifications and concerns raised by staff. I would like each of you to study these packets and prepare any questions you may have for the candidates at this time a week from today."

"The names?" Harry repeated.

With a wave of his wand, Draco sent eleven sheets of paper flying, "These names are not to be shared with anybody. And it should be remembered what happened the last time someone shared our business with his mates..."

All eyes moved to poor Robert Oliver. Draco had taken a page from Hermione's playbook and placed a hex on the meeting notes from a few meetings back. The Hufflepuff had sold the notes to a writer for the Prophet. The moment the notes changed hands, both the writer and the Regent broke out in boils. Draco grinned fiercely at the Hufflepuff as he slumped in his chair.

Harry shook his head as he studied the list. None of the candidates were surprises:

_**Candidates for Headmaster**_

_**Vote to be held 12 July 2003**_

_Filius Flitwick, Charms_

_Septima Vector, Arithmacy_

_Pomona Sprout, Herbology_

_Garrett Gooddrought, Potions_

Soon after everyone had the opportunity to look over the list, groups of voters began sharing looks. Based on the makeup of the Board, Harry was nearly sure that he knew who the winner would be. There was little reason to read his packet. This vote was out of either his or Draco's hands.

**ZZZZZZZ**

"Do you really want a Hufflepuff sitting up in the tower, Potter?"

It was Draco. The Slytherin had caught up to Harry as he reached the stairs.

The young wizard stopped to adjust his spectacles, "Are you trying to broker a deal with _me_?"

"I'm sort of running out of options, Potter. You know what's going to happen next week, right?"

"Yes. Whether Pamona or Flitwick wins then I'm all for it. Either is capable."

Draco shook his head, "No. Flitwick is losing it."

Harry laughed, "There are four Ravenclaws on the Board. It's doubtful they'll lose."

"No," Draco shook his head, "He's _losing_ it. I saw him at the final Quidditch match in March. Even a few in his own House are concerned."

"So I should vote for your candidate? That Gooddrought chap?"

"He's bright, Potter. And it wouldn't hurt to help restore balance. Since the war Slytherins are being treated worse than we ever treated any of you lot."

"Bollocks!" Harry turned on Draco. "You'd have me believe...?"

"Look," Draco pleaded. "Just meet the bloke. If you are impressed with him then vote with me. If not then vote your conscience."

"You know you'd never do what you are asking me to do," Harry complained.

"Maybe not," Draco agreed. "But is what I'm asking so much? All I'm asking is that you keep an open mind."

These were not the steely grey eyes of Draco's father. Though he could never be absolutely sure, Harry believed that Malfoy was sincere.

"And?"

Draco blinked with confusion, "And what?"

"You planned on striking some sort of deal with me?"

The Slytherin was taken aback, "I never thought of you as the sort to make deals. You really want something out of this? What do you want?"

Harry stroked his chin, "I dunno. I _don't_ normally make deals."

Draco shook his head in disbelief, "You vote for my candidate and think on what you want. If I can do it I will."

**ZZZZZZZ**

Madeline hadn't meant to spy on Hermione. It had happened quite by accident. One morning in early July she'd slipped upstairs to see if her mentor wanted to work on charming the boxes. Madeline was only allowed to work on the simplest of the charms because of the sensitivity of the boxes but she was getting good at them.

Ron had already headed to the Ministry and Harry was at the Regents meeting. Madeline hoped that those ruddy Regents would agree to vote that the Tri-wizard tournament be voted in for 2004. She was ineligible this year but there was talk that now that things had settled down that Durmstrang and Beauxbatons should have stronger ties. There were a few Regents that believed that if the different schools had stronger ties then it would be less likely that a dark wizard like Voldemort could take such a strong hold in any one country.

Anyhow, as she'd walked up to the top floor of Grimmauld Place, she'd noticed Hermione slip up a trap door in the ceiling of the hallway. The door then closed as if the ceiling swallowed her up.

Madeline was as curious as any witch her age. Hermione was full of secrets...she had been ever since Madeline had moved in two years before. Certainly, the young witch was privy to many of her mentor's secrets but there was a reason that Ron steered so many of their conversations away from sad subjects. Hermione could just as easily move back into that melancholy place that she'd been in that first few months after the attack on the Burrow.

For an hour the young witch sat there and waited for Hermione to come back out. Madeline Mason was her mother's daughter...she had Auror's blood in her veins. Her mother told Madeline a story once at bedtime about how she'd had to wait for hours and hours for a suspect to come out of the house, "I had to pee so bad my eyes were swimming."

Madeline didn't have to wait that long. The door crept open and Hermione came tiptoeing down the steps. After looking both ways, Hermione flicked her wand and said "Alohamora."

It didn't even look like there was a door when it was closed. Again, Hermione looked both ways before slipping away. Slipping out of a shadow, Madeline felt a crisis of conscience:

"It isn't right to go sneaking into other people's rooms," Madeline reminded herself.

"It's not like it's Hermione's room," Madeline replied.

"But you know better," Madeline admonished herself.

"True, but I'm just a kid. And I really want to know what's up there." Madeline reasoned.

Seemingly satisfied with her own explanation, Madeline pulled out her wand, "Alohamora."

She crept up the steps. The door swallowed her...just as it had Hermione before.


	5. MM 04 Horse Trading

**MM 04 - Horse Trading**

**Submitted: 18 March 2013**

Harry leaned back in his seat waiting for the other Regents to arrive. A week before he'd been certain he'd vote for Professor Sprout. She'd performed admirably as the Assistant to the Headmistress for years now. He hadn't expected her to win but he'd thought she was a solid choice.

If you'd asked him a week before, Harry would have said that Flitwick was a fully capable candidate and he'd proven on more than one occasion that he could keep his head in times of trouble. But Draco had not been lying. Harry had dropped in on the old Charms Professor after the meeting and found him muttering to himself as he paced back and forth on his desk. It wasn't that the Professor muttered that Harry had a problem with – he'd always mumbled to himself in classes when he watched over the students' handiwork.

"Harry!" Flitwick smiled. His voice had always been a little high, "How may I help you?"

The bespectacled wizard glanced around the professor's office. Books were no longer on bookshelves. Instead they were stacked near a corner as if they'd been fashioned into a child's fortress. Flitwick's desk was covered with parchment. Each piece was a mess of erratic scrawl that could have been the scribblings of a small boy. None of the professor's customary portraits were hanging on the walls. Instead, the framed pieces were on the ground...propped against the wall so that the portraits themselves were facing away from the room.

"Sir, are you feeling well?" Harry asked worriedly.

"I am fantastic!" Flitwick squealed merrily. The professor grew nervous as Harry's eyes wandered around the room, "I need to tidy the place up a bit. Those ruddy portraits were staring at me. I've spent the holiday writing a book and the fools were trying to take a gander from over my shoulder. At first I hid behind those books over there while I wrote but then I asked myself, 'Why don't I simply take down the ruddy portraits and turn them around?' Worked like a charm!"

The professor giggled as he recognised his play on words, "I am a Charms Professor, eh?"

Harry stepped toward the desk to catch a closer look. He was certain nothing but gibberish was scribbled on the pieces of parchment, "What are you writing a book _about_, sir?"

The professor rushed over to the corner of the desk where Harry stood. He slipped on a piece of parchment and nearly tumbled off the desk. Even standing on the table Flitwick was barely as tall as his former pupil, "Never mind that. It will be my life's work."

"Is it written in another language?"

The half-goblin glared so that his dark eyes flickered black in the candlelight. The professor wagged his wand back and forth as he admonished the younger wizard, "Why, Harry? What do you want with my book? It is of no interest to you. I'll publish it in due time and then all of you sneaks can get your grubby little eyes on it."

"Maybe I should go," Harry proposed. He got no argument. The Charms Professor remained at the edge of the desk with arms crossed and a frown fixed firmly on his face. Harry backed away and only when he was outside of arms length did he turn to walk out the door. Flitwick hadn't even afforded him the courtesy of a goodbye.

A day later Harry found himself meeting Professor Gooddraught. Draco had sent owls to both wizards inviting them to Malfoy Manor for lunch. He'd have never known that the Manor had suffered through two terrible skirmishes during the war just more than five years before. As they ate, the Potions Master gave his case for becoming the least experienced Headmaster in three centuries:

"As I see it," Professor Gooddraught explained, "Hogwarts has a rare opportunity to infuse the Wizard World with a generation of wizards that looks less at bloodlines and more at innovation. With both of you as Regents and myself sitting as Headmaster we could shape the wizard world into a true Meritocracy where one is rewarded for what he does rather than who his parents are. I want each and every witch and wizard to push their abilities to the limit and see what kind of world we can produce with the fruits of those labours."

The lone Gryffindor sipped his tea as he studied his nemesis sceptically, "And you are for this? After all of your talk of Mudbloods and blood purity?"

Draco shrugged, "I'm a Slytherin at heart. You'll never convince me that Muggle Borne should be treated equally. Even so, I see where the winds are carrying us. Professor Gooddraught will help Slytherins regain some of the prestige we lost during the War."

The Potions Master cut in, "Salazar Slytherin held two very different beliefs. He had a difficult time reconciling the idea that only pure blooded wizards should be allowed to practise magic with the belief that only the most successful wizards should be given his attentions. He decided ultimately that blood purity was more important. I am of a different mindset. While I prefer to associate with pure blooded wizards, I cannot help but wonder how different our world will be once your mate Hermione Granger is finished with it."

"That's Hermione Weasley," Harry corrected.

"Oh, that is right," the Professor remembered. "Thank you."

They finished the meal quietly. Harry had listened to everything the professor had to say and he hated to admit it but he was impressed. While Professor Sprout was fully capable of serving as Headmistress, Harry felt that she didn't have nearly the imagination of the Potions Master. The Herbology Professor reminded Harry of Professor McGonagall – they were capable witches who excelled in their fields and were excellent administrators.

And this was why Harry now sat in the Merlin Chamber, or whatever it was called, and considered his vote.

"So why do you need me?" Harry had asked Draco the night before at The Leaky Cauldron. The two got more than a few odd looks that night sitting at the same table.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, "I can't vote unless there's a tie, remember? How many of these meetings have you honestly been too?"

It didn't take much for Harry to remember why he disliked the Slytherin sitting before him. He almost wanted to vote for Flitwick out of spite but that would have been both foolish and immature. The last thing Hogwarts needed next term was a Headmaster that was out of his mind.

"Sorry Potter." Draco obviously knew a row was the last thing they needed at the moment. He ran his fingers through his silvery blond hair, something Harry remembered he'd done many a time when the professors forced him to apologise against his will, "Fact is, Potter, I'm asking for your vote as a hedge. I have two Hufflepuffs that I've given an incentive to vote with us. If one changes his mind then I'd like to have your vote as well to insure that we win."

The Gryffindor was prepared to protest the bribes but Hannah arrived with their drinks. For a moment Harry thought Hannah might dump Draco's Butterbeer in his lap. At the last moment, though, she seemed to think better of it and the pint was set safely on the table.

"Harry!"

Robert Oliver, the Hufflepuff that Draco had given so much grief to the week before, had tapped Harry on the shoulder and shaken him out of his daydream. Harry nearly fell out of his chair. He'd been leaning far back, thinking on the past few days, and hadn't noticed that anyone had arrived. Already, two Ravenclaws were sitting to Harry's left. The Hufflepuff, seemingly oblivious that he'd surprised Harry, asked, "Have you decided who you are voting for?"

"I think so," Harry answered, "I'm keeping an open mind."

"An open mind?" Draco seemed more than a little concerned as he found his seat, "Is this something that needs to be deliberated? I was of the impression that most of the Regents had made up their minds."

"I'm waiting until the vote," Harry answered. "Then I'll vote my conscience."

"Conscience," Draco grumbled. He shook his head in disbelief as he sat down. "Always about conscience with you."

By now all but one of the Regents had filtered their way in. Draco wasn't the only one grumbling. It wasn't often that Harry sounded indecisive and each of the voting blocs seemed both intrigued and concerned about the direction the lone wildcard might sway. The fact that Harry and Draco were speaking about this at all seemed of great interest to the Ravenclaw side of the table.

That was how they sat. Four Ravenclaws would always sit immediately to Harry's left. The four Hufflepuffs would always sit to his right. The three Slytherins would sit at the other end of the table with one on each side of Draco. Harry was somehow the only Gryffindor.

It had always been an unspoken fact that the Hufflepuffs had been named as Regents because the Malfoy gold could easily sway them. Most had followed Lucius years before. The fact that there were also four Ravenclaws on the Board was never lost on Harry. Strangely, Harry was the first Gryffindor added to the board in more than two decades. Gryffindors were more prone to argue and it'd always been the opinion of Ministers past that it was better to have Ravenclaws that could debate wisely over Gryffindors that preferred to debate loudly.

"It's noon," a Ravenclaw announced smugly. "Are we going to wait all day or should we get this meeting over with? I _**do**_have other business."

Draco eyed the empty chair on the Hufflepuff side nervously. Harry noticed that Robert Oliver, the Hufflepuff that Draco had berated the week before, would shift uncomfortably in his chair when Malfoy glanced at him. A silent conversation seemed to transpire between the two. Both were cut off by the Hufflepuff sitting closest to Robert. Harry always forgot these blokes' names.

"We are all accounted for," announced the hard to remember Hufflepuff. He pulled out a slip of parchment from his robes with a red wax seal fixed to it, "Clovis is unable to attend. He offered me his right to vote through proxy." The Hufflepuff glared at Malfoy meaningfully, "It seems he had a change of heart."

A Ravenclaw took no time to cut in, "I move for a silent vote. No-one should fear to vote his heart." His words seemed to be directed at the nervous Hufflepuff.

Draco was not the only one happy with the idea. The motion was eagerly received with a resounding chorus of 'Seconds' and 'Ayes.' Thinking he'd won a major victory, Draco gloated, "Motion carries. Let's vote." With a flick of his wand, pieces of parchment and quills floated to each of the regents. Two pieces floated to the Hufflepuff with the extra vote. The only wizard without a piece of parchment in front of him was Draco himself.

Harry looked around. He thought he understood what had happened but wasn't sure. Draco obviously had lost one of the Hufflepuffs. Harry wasn't sure that the other planned to do – Draco seemed to think he was with them. He got the impression by the smile on the Ravenclaw's face that he wanted the Hufflepuff vote split and he knew that Oliver was in Draco's pocket. Strangely, though, the Hufflepuffs seemed very happy with the results and Robert Oliver seemed absolutely relieved.

Harry still wasn't certain which way to vote. He felt he should vote with his heart. On one hand, Professor Gooddraught was bright, talent and had a fantastic vision of where the school should be headed. On the other hand, Professor Sprout was kind, fair, loyal and, above all, _not a Slytherin_.

The parchment stared up at Harry and dared him to make a decision. He looked up to find all eyes on him. Everyone else had written their choice the moment they received their ballot. Each seemed hopeful that he'd vote for their candidate. He caught Draco biting his lip. On the contrary, the Ravenclaws looked like they'd already won.

The Gryffindor touched the end of the quill to his lips as he stared at the empty parchment. Finally he dabbed it into the ink well. Printed in large block letters, he wrote out his answer. He pulled out his wand and when he touched it to the parchment. The ballot folded up neatly before floating gracefully to Draco at the other side of the table.

Draco couldn't bear to count the votes himself. He passed them to the slightly built Prigg beside him. Quickly the Slytherin Secretary announced the votes as he sorted them into piles:

"Sprout, Pamona, Flitwick, Flitwick, Gooddraught, Pamona, Flitwick, Goodraught, Pamona, Flitwick..." The Hufflepuff counting the votes looked up at Harry in disbelief, "Gooddraught?" The Gryffindor's vote had been obvious because it had been the last turned in. Again there was grumbling amongst each of the groups. The Hufflepuffs seemed to glance over at Harry angrily as they conferred quietly within their groups. The Ravenclaws seemed surprised as well but now it was obvious that they'd expected one of the Hufflepuffs to vote with Draco. In the end, they got lucky.

The unnamed Ravenclaw spoke up, "Draco, you must vote either Sprout or Flitwick. The bylaws say says you must vote to settle the tie. That means you must vote for one or the other."

"Nay!" Prigg barked as he stood up. "It says he votes in the case of a tie. He can vote however he wishes."

The entire Hall broke into arguing. The only ones that sat silent were Harry and Draco. The Slytherin seemed sad. Harry watched as his nemesis considered his predicament quietly. All the while, each of the three Houses seemed to spout off insults and make threats. Just as the situation seemed that it might come to violence, Draco stood up and shouted "Silence!" Getting their attention he commanded, "Sit Down!"

One by one the Regents sat. Each took turns looking at the wizards opposite of them with distrust. It wasn't often that the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were at odds with each other. There was a natural animosity between them that was likened to that of Slytherin and Gryffindor. Ravenclaws saw Hufflepuffs as Duffers and Hufflepuffs saw Ravenclaws as pretentious know-it-alls. There was a tendency for the two to play one another hard at Quidditch...even when there was nothing on the line but second or third place. It didn't help that the two clubs had been placed one and two most of the season and Hufflepuff had won only its second Cup in a decade after drubbing Ravenclaw.

For the two to be arguing over which of their Houses would represent Hogwarts as the Headmaster was beyond comprehension to them. Add that Draco might force a three way tie into the mix?

One of the Hufflepuffs spoke up, "What happens if you vote for the Potions Master? That forces a stalemate, right?"

"He can't," the Ravenclaw insisted. Harry finally remembered the blokes name...it was James Keenswick or something or other. Keenswick growled, "He must vote for one or the other of us."

"Enough!" the Slytherin repeated. He stood back up, "First of all, I can vote for whomever I damned well please. There is no precedent otherwise. The rule states I am to vote but places no emphasis on me breaking the tie."

Draco shook his head as he thought aloud, "That being said, if we can't come to a decision then it goes to the Wizengamut to break the tie. A three way tie does me no good because it's highly doubtful any of that lot would have it in their mind to vote a Slytherin in as Headmaster." His grey eyes dimmed a little as he admitted defeat, "I'd rather have a Dolt as Headmistress than a Head Case. I vote for Sprout."

The three Hufflepuffs stood up and hugged cheerily as the Ravenclaws sat there staring at the Chair in disbelief. Keenswick seemed the most incredulous. It was obvious he'd run through all of the scenarios logically over and over again. His question seemed more like an exasperated rant, "This is all nonsense. How do you possibly vote Sprout? You hate Sprout! And Harry votes Slytherin? And that bloody corrupt Hufflepuff over there? He always votes with you? He should have voted Slytherin...Harry should have voted Sprout and you should have voted Flitwick out of spite!"

Draco glared back at them, "Keenswick, that's the problem with all of you ruddy Ravenclaws...you fail to account for human element with all of your logic. If you'd have bothered to ask any one of us which way we were voting instead of assuming you'd have known that none of us would vote for him because he's gone plain wonky. Have none of you spoken to him all in the past year?"

The Ravenclaws shared a look. In everyone's hurry to get their own candidate none had thought to discuss the actual merits of each candidate. Draco decided to bury the dagger in a little deeper, "Potter was the only one to take the time to meet with all of the candidates besides myself."

Keenswick stood up, "I call for a recount."

Draco shook his head, "We are not having a recount just so you can vote in Sinistra. Nobody'll vote for her besides you Ravenclaws anyhow. There's a reason she didn't get a single vote. She's the nastiest old bat here."

It seemed that everyone else besides the Ravenclaws agreed. Sinistra was not the sort of witch that worked well with people.

Malfoy continued as if the matter was settled, "You lot need to convince Flitwick to step down before the Headmistress is forced to ask for his resignation herself. It will be much less embarrassing for him."

Harry sat there in wonderment. Amidst all of the chaos he felt like he was almost proud of Draco. The Slytherin had matured to the point that he was willing to choose the best solution for all over the decision that was to his greatest advantage. He wondered if one day the two of them might be able to get past their differences and call themselves mates.

And then, just like that, the feeling was gone. Draco reminded Harry why they could never be mates. He went off on a tirade, "You're all a bunch of bloody fools. I can't believe I'm even associated with such shallow thinking, foolish, bone headed..."

Harry tuned the tirade out. This was the Draco he knew.

**A/N: I'm curious what you think so far. Any feedback would help.**


	6. MM 05 Mirror Mirror on the Wall

Chapter 5 – Mirror Mirror On the Wall

**Submitted 2 April 2013**

Hermione didn't understand it. Madeline had been so outgoing and talkative.

"It's like she just decided to shift to silent mode," Hermione confessed as she looked up from her food. "She was helping me with my work and she was even more excited about it than I was. Then one day it just stopped."

Ron swallowed, "Do you think it's finally hit her that her parents won't be coming back?"

His wife had to do a double-take, "It's almost been two years. Why would she wait two years after her parents' death to begin grieving for them?"

Ginny had just arrived the night before, "Well, it must be something that triggered it. Is there anything different? It could be puberty. Has she...?"

Hermione cut in with a resounding, "Yes."

The two wizards shared a look. Once it was certain neither of the witches were going to explain further they shrugged and returned to their meals. Ginny and Hermione shared a look of their own as if they were silently debating which of their husbands was more clueless when it came to the fairer sex.

Harry spoke up, "Maybe I should speak to her. It may be that she'd rather speak to a bloke about all of these changes. She could be too embarrassed to speak to either of you about it. She might prefer the perspective of a bloke."

The two witches shared a second look. It seemed they had their winner.

"No," Ginny finally spoke up. She placed a conciliatory hand on her husband's knee, "We have this."

Ron swallowed another bite as he tried to ignore his sister, "Where is she, anyhow?"

Hermione sighed, "She said she wasn't up to eating with everyone. She asked if she could take dinner in her room."

**ZZZZZZZ**

Fact was that Madeline was nowhere near her room. She was, instead, sitting in the very chair that Hermione had placed in the attic at Grimmauld Place to view the mirror that had placed up there months before. Madeline had found the mirror there early in July when she'd caught Hermione sneaking out of the attic. Once her mentor had slipped downstairs, Madeline repeated the spell she'd heard uttered moments before, "Alohamora."

Once the entry to attic opened, Madeline climbed the steps. She'd thought she'd explored every square inch of the home but she'd obviously been wrong. At first the attic seemed like nothing special. When she'd uttered the "Alohamora" charm to close the entry, she'd fully expected to need to use her wand for light.

There was no need. Throughout the attic were small dim magic candles much like the ones that lit the Main Hall at Hogwarts for evening meals. Aside from furniture that seemed ages old and a shelf of odds and ends, the space was empty. Strangely, though, it seemed even cleaner and well kept than the house itself.

Madeline was about to head back down the steps when she noticed a shimmer across the attic. That's when she realised that there was a whole other room. Not a peep came from the other side but every few moments she'd swear that something moved. Slowly, she eased herself closer so she could get a better look.

The voice made her jump, "Are we letting all manner of vermin walk through my glorious halls now?" Mrs. Black observed in her usual acid tone, "First it was the Blood Traitors...then the Mud Bloods. Now we have Ankle Biters to boot?"

Madeline's first inclination was to offer a snarky retort to the witch on the wall. However, as her eye caught the hanging mirror, she couldn't help be mesmerised by the image that stood before her, "Is it real?"

The mirror on the wall was just as dear to the heart of Mrs. Black...so much so that she could even stomach Hermione's presence when the Muggle Borne witch would visit. The portrait's expression softened as the contempt for the young Half-Blood melted away, "Is it real? Do you mean the mirror? Yes. The contents? No."

Frankly, Mrs. Black was much more interested in admiring the vision of her young boy than she was trading barbs with whomever was in the attic with her. Mrs. Black usually sat silent with Hermione when they shared the attic because she'd be damned if she were to become friendly with a Mud Blood. Even so, there was something about _**this**_ young witch that struck her fancy, "What do _**you**_ see, Dear?"

"My mum and dad," the young witch answered sadly. "They died a few years back."

The lady in the portrait nodded knowingly, "For me, it is my boy Regulus Black. He was my youngest...my reason for being. One day he just up and disappeared." The old lady shrugged, "No-one could ever tell me where he went to or why. I spent the last six years of my life and thousands of Galleons searching for the boy."

Madeline had already taken the liberty of sitting in the chair just under the portrait. Her eyes were locked on the mirror and she was facing away from Mrs. Black but she was listening, "That is terrible. So you never heard from him again?"

"Never again," Mrs. Black answered sadly, "But I heard about him. One day my dear Kreacher came in wearing his locket. I begged him to tell me where he found it. He told me that the Potter boy had given it to him. He told me how my dear Regulus died in a cavern due to a curse from that awful Riddle boy."

"Tom Riddle?"

The lady in the portrait nodded, "I'd attended Hogwarts with that boy. He was such a despicable little thing. He may have had my mates fooled but he was as shifty and oily as they came. No class, that one. Oh, but he could _pretend_ with the best of them. And because of him my boy lost his life."

Madeline explained how her mother had died saving Hermione from a band of hooligans and how her father had died from his illness. At no time did either witch take their eyes off the mirror or the objects of their affections. Regulus Black never stopped looking back adoringly at his mum. Mr. and Mrs. Mason never stopped holding their daughter. Mr. Mason was no longer frail but was once again the vibrant young father she remembered as a child.

They sat there for hours. And hours. And hours.

That first day came and went. The next morning was announced with a 'Click.'

"Quick!" Mrs. Black whispered to young witch, "Get into the wardrobe! It's empty. Kreacher only wears the one outfit!"

Madeline did as told and rushed into the wardrobe. For just more than an hour, she waited as the only noise that she could hear was the breath of the person outside. She was fearful that her own breathing would give her away but fortunately her mentor's hearing wasn't as acute as hers.

At one point, while waiting, she'd instinctively felt for the back wall of the wardrobe wondering if an old story she'd read as a child might in fact be real. No luck. Not today, at least.

After what seemed like forever she heard rustling outside. It was followed by a question from Mrs. Black, "When do you plan to return, Mrs. Weasley?"

The response was muffled, "I'm off to the Ministry. Probably not until morning."

"Excellent. Till tomorrow then." the portrait answered, syrupy sweet.

Madeline's legs had fallen asleep. They ached terribly. She had to shift her weight. As she moved she collapsed to her side with a "Thump." It took every bit of strength she had not to squeal.

"What was that?" she could hear Hermione ask.

"Oh," Mrs. Black answered, "That's Kreacher. He never grew used to the bed. I suggested he use the wardrobe since it's so much smaller. He was catching a few minutes shut-eye before the others wake. The poor elf still rustles around when he has his nightmares."

Madeline had to put a hand over her own mouth to keep from making noise. She could hear Hermione fiddle with the handle, "Maybe I should wake him up."

The portrait answered shrilly, "You wake that poor soul up and so help me I'll let the Potter boy know all about our arrangement! Kreacher has been through enough without having to be harassed by some dirty old Mud Blood! Go make your own tea if you must have it!"

Silence. Instinctively, Madeline turned an ear to hear. It was no use.

And then Mrs. Black could be heard blurting out, "I heard that! I'd rather be bitch than a mongrel!"

After a another few more moments of silence Mrs. Black said much more quietly, "It's safe to come out, dear. She's gone."

Madeline exhaled as she opened the double doors to the wardrobe, "That was close."

And that's how the relationship between Mrs. Black and Madeline Mason began. For a month, Madeline had spent most of her waking hours in the attic. Mrs. Black had to remind the young girl to leave so she could sleep. Usually Madeline would protest but the portrait would admonish her like a mother would her own child.

Kreacher was sworn to secrecy by his Mistress. He would bring meals up to the young witch. To keep the Potter Boy and the Mudblood from being suspicious, Mrs. Black advised her adopted daughter to sleep during the day and visit at night. Kreacher would warn Madeline immediately after Hermione had taken breakfast and she'd slip out of the attic before Hermione reached the Second Landing. She'd then sleep until Hermione returned from the Ministry for the day and then she'd quietly help her mentor with the work on the black boxes they were building.

What Madeline didn't realise was that she'd become so obsessed with the mirror up in the attic that she often spend her days working with Hermione in a haze. The young girl didn't speak hardly at all. She'd lost all interest in Hermione's other projects. When her mentor would try to shake her out of her stupor she'd snap back angrily, "What?! What do you want?"

It was only logical that the four people who sat downstairs were worried. Now mid-August, she was due to leave for Hogwarts in two weeks. How was she going to react to the change?

She was no more sure than them. Madeline couldn't fathom the idea of being apart from the mirror for an entire four months. It would completely occupy her thoughts when she was awake. When she was asleep she'd dream about it. Every morning's dream was the same...she'd sit in front of the mirror and stare at it.

Madeline was sure that she'd go insane if she returned to Hogwarts. She was certain of it.

**ZZZZZZZ**

Ginny couldn't sleep. It had been two whole nights since she'd returned for the mid-season break that was now customary for all professional Quidditch players in England. Strangely, she and Harry had adjusted well to her months away during the season. She was more worried that they might grow tired of each other when she retired from Quidditch and were forced to spend entire years at a time together.

Now? It was absolutely fantastic! They'd spend the second half of August together and then she'd return for November, December and January. The rest of the time she spent at her flat in Holyhead where she and her teammates lived when they practised and played. She'd have thought that she and Harry would have spent most of their spare time writing lovey-dovey letters and pining over each others absence. Not the case.

In one way they were quite similar. When they were together they were inseparable. When they were apart, their entire attention was on whatever they were doing. She obsessed with learning spin manoeuvres and he was obsessed with...well, recently it was learning how to fight with a sword.

When they were together? They spent most of the time in the green room adjacent to the third landing at 12 Grimmauld Place. One evening they'd fashioned the pillows and sheets into a tent and her hero happily took his reward for saving her from the great red dragon. Another night they spent wrapped in sheets as she granted his first wish as a 'djinn' – she'd even started the night out dressed in the traditional Arabian garb with a few select modifications that she was sure would catch his eye.

So, tonight was the second night of what they now called their fourth honeymoon. His appetite had waned not one bit from the second night of their first honeymoon. That had been their first trip to Greece. She'd met Antiones and his wife Lydia that day. Harry had spent the day showing her around Delphi and showing her their beautiful second home that overlooked the Muggle town below.

She knew he spent much of his time in Greece when they were apart. After that trip she could understand why. There he was just another foreigner. He could forget about all of the death that had surrounded him in England and there were no papers constantly following his every move. Everything about Delphi was different. It was more colourful, more serene and Harry seemed more alive than she'd ever seen him before. Ginny wondered if, once she retired, she'd want to move there with him for good. Could she spend the rest of her days so far away from her family?

That was what kept her up tonight. Family. Not her mum and dad and brothers. She saw plenty of them when she was home with Harry. They didn't understand how she could leave them for months on end but she'd explained that they could visit Holyhead any time they liked. It was only George and Harry who weren't welcome during the season.

She was thinking about her _new_ family with Harry. She wondered when was a good time to start it. It was August of 2003 and she'd just turned twenty-two years old days before. Inexplicably, on the eve of her birthday, sitting with Gwenog and her other mates, she'd been overcome by the desire to have a baby. It came as the girls sat in her flat discussing what it would take for them to win their fourth consecutive Quidditch Cup.

Gwenog had come back strong from her injury two years before and now, armed with an artificial hand, she was as formidable a Beater as she'd ever been. Gwenog still had terrifying nightmares where she relived the night that her hand had unceremoniously been ripped from her body. Some nights she'd stay at Ginny's because she couldn't bear the dreams alone.

Ginny and her fellow Harpies had decided the first season they'd banded together that they'd stick together until they'd either won six consecutive Quidditch Cups...or until they lost. The oath had sounded good at the time. With Isa and Wilda at Chaser and Gwenog as the primary Beater they'd seemed unstoppable. No other team had more than two true stars and each of Holyhead's core were no worse than top three at their position.

But Wilda left Holyhead for Puddlemore after their first Cup. Gwenog had been injured during their second season. Isa and Ginny were as strong as ever but the dominance of the Harpies had gradually eroded until this year they found themselves fighting tooth and nail to stay at the top of the standings. Ginny found herself looking forward to the break in the season for the first time ever. Not because of Harry, mind you. Her body was exhausted and she found herself nursing minor injuries and ailments she'd never dealt with before.

It was their coach and manager Glynnis who explained, "A witches body will break down much more quickly than a bloke's." She pointed to Gwenog, "That, my girls, is a specimen of a woman. Thirty-some-odd years old and she's still swinging the bat as if she were nineteen. I'd be shocked to see many of you playing past your twenty-fifth birthday. Honestly, I wouldn't expect you to want to. Children don't come easy when you wait to thirty to have them and a broken body makes chasing the little buggers a terrible chore. There is more to life than Quidditch."

As Ginny lie in bed next to her husband, she thought long and hard on her manager's words of wisdom. Two more years now seemed like an eternity. As much as she loved her sport... a quiet life spent with her husband and future children sounded more and more lovely with each passing day. She wished that she could have a sign that everything was going to turn out right.

Harry rolled over and wrapped an arm around her waist. She could feel his breath warm her cold neck from behind. Just like when they were awake, he was always just close enough when they slept that she felt cosy without feeling overwhelmed. She smiled as she closed her eyes. If she could count on one thing, she knew that Harry would be there when she was ready. Until then, he kept himself just far enough away that she didn't feel smothered.

**ZZZZZZZ**

Hermione woke just as Ginny fell asleep. It was nothing new. She found she couldn't sleep more than four hours or so at a time.

Ron lie beside her but as usual he was turned the other way. She regretted that they'd grown so far apart. It didn't take much contemplating why. They'd never truly talked about the loss of their daughter. They tried to avoid even thinking about it...but the sight of each other was a constant reminder.

That said, he'd been her saviour. How many nights had he come charging in when she'd been on the brink of madness and held her until she felt like she could move again. Ron seemed to have an instinct that told him when she was about to move into a state of melancholy and he'd forget everything for her. Not a word would be spoken but he'd hold her, bathe her, dress her, feed her...whatever was necessary. Ron was in many ways as faithful as any knight who defended his queen.

It made her wonder who watched after _him_. So far as she knew, he never had suffered the same bouts of melancholy that she had. She was aware that he'd slip down into the Sitting Room or someplace else private and just stare off into nothingness when he was needed by neither wife nor work. It wasn't the same, though. He didn't just shut down altogether like she did.

She wanted so badly to start over. She soon learned that there was no reset button to relationships, though. She'd look him in the eyes fully prepared to snog him silly and the next thing she knew she was in the tub with her arms wrapped tightly around her legs as he sponged her down and promised her that everything would be all right soon enough.

Hermione inched closer to Ron. She didn't want to wake him but she felt an ache to be close. She nestled herself around him so that she spooned him. Too short to reach his neck, she rested her cheek against his back. Her arm rested on his side. It wasn't as perfect as when he used to drape his arm over her but for tonight it would do. Before she knew it, she'd fallen back asleep. It would be morning before she woke again.

**ZZZZZZZ**

Ron woke with a twitch as his wife slipped off to sleep. Her arm resting on his side and her cheek pressed against his back, her fingers were pressed into his ribs as well. He'd never admit it but he'd always been ticklish. When he was a child, Fred and George would terrorise him. They'd hold him down and tickle him until he pissed his pants. Mum would chase the twins around the yard firing stinging curses at their arses when she caught them...but it didn't keep them from treating their younger brother to his Tuesday Tickler, as they called it.

Needless to say, when he was jarred awake by his wife and her accidental tickling, he found himself doing everything he could not to wet himself. Once he'd unclenched his teeth he relaxed. As she drifted deeper and deeper in to sleep, he could feel the sighs of her breath on his back and he couldn't remember anything ever feeling better.

For months, he'd met in secret with a healer from St. Mungo's. She'd met him quietly at his office on Wednesdays for lunch and he'd discuss the progress of his relationship with his wife. She'd have him look in the mirror each week and ask, "What do you see?"

This healer wasn't for any physical malady. When Hermione first tried to slip under the bubbles in the bath and he'd had to drag her out of the tub, he knew he couldn't solve their problems on his own. It had taken every bit of his courage to speak to this witch but he knew his wife needed him to be a man. Ron;s father had always told his boys that a real man would choose humility over pride when it came to doing the right thing.

Ron's pride told him that if his mates found out he was seeing a healer for his problems then they'd never let him hear the end of it. Ron's humility told him that he couldn't handle his family's problems himself and that if he didn't get help soon then he'd lose more than just his daughter.

Mr. Ronald Bilius Weasley swore that he'd be a rock for his wife. Unfortunately, his healer, Miss Edna Farsight, would often see him sob like a little girl. Each and every Wednesday she'd talk him off the emotional ledge as he recounted the setbacks of the week before. It always seemed like he and his wife had turned a corner only to find later in the week that they'd made a u-turn.

Miss Edna Farsight became _his_ rock so that he could be his wife's rock. Sure there were whispers around the Auror's offices that Ron might be seeing a witch on the side but those blokes didn't know the true Ron. He'd rather be seen as a philanderer, anyhow, than a bloke who wasn't strong enough to handle his business on his own. It wouldn't do for his team or his fellow Aurors to know he wasn't all right in the head so he let the rumours go.

The healer taught him how to release triggers that might set his wife's moods off. He learned how to deflect her anger and how to use rituals such as combing her hair in the tub to sooth her when she became inconsolable. Sometimes, though, none of the healer's advice worked and he was left to his own wits to improvise when his wife would begin her fits of madness.

Tonight was a first...a breakthrough of sorts. Tonight was the first time that she'd touched him romantically in any way since their daughter's death. Usually, she'd begin a screaming fit just as they got close enough to be intimate. He did what he could to hide it but his wife was truly mental. The healer had said time and again that if he exercised enough patience then she might eventually pull herself out of her madness.

"What if she doesn't?" he asked her one day.

"Then she doesn't," Miss Farsight answered.

This didn't make Ron one bit happy, "What do I do then?"

The healer tilted her head as if the answer was obvious, "If that's the case then there isn't anything to _be_ done. It seems rather counterproductive to focus on what you can't do, though, doesn't it?"

So Ron hoped. And, tonight, as he drifted off to sleep he felt just a bit more confident. Hopefully, tomorrow there would be no u-turn.

**ZZZZZZZ**

Harry was began to drift back off to sleep just as Ron did. He hadn't meant to fall asleep in the first place but the last thing he remembered was Ginny giggling as she asked, "Did I wear you out?"

He woke up to a sigh. It had been Ginny. He could tell by her silence that she'd been deep in thought. Instead of asking her what she was thinking about (did anyone ever answer that question truthfully anyhow?) he pretended to be asleep and left her to her thoughts.

Harry still considered himself rubbish when it came to understanding witches but he had learned one trick. Still pretending to be asleep, he gently rolled over onto his side and he placed his arm over his wife's side. He didn't want to give away he was awake so he avoided scootching in too close. The moment he did this he felt his wife relax.

Phew. He'd learned that if Ginny relaxed when he put his arm around her that she wasn't upset with him. Usually it meant that it was better for her to work the problem out on her own. He'd been told by Mr. Weasley more than once, "Be a gentleman at all times but never try to solve a problem for your wife unless she asks you too."

When Ron and Harry had asked why, Arthur merely shrugged and answered, "I can't rightly tell you why. You'll do it once and you'll understand."

What bothered Harry was Madeline. He'd barely seen the little witch since he'd been back. When he did see her she'd been short tempered and easily distracted. He wondered if she was apprehensive about her upcoming year at Hogwarts. She'd be sitting for her OWLS this year and he remembered how much that had affected Hermione years before.

He decided he'd have a talk with the young witch. Regardless of what his wife and best mate had thought at dinner, he felt a bloke might be able to get her to open up.

That settled, he noticed his wife had long since fallen asleep. Harry wanted more than ever to pull himself closer but he didn't want to risk waking her. Skin so soft. In the darkness, he tried to imagine the freckles that covered her arms, her back and the whole of her body. He began to relax as the scent of her hair calmed him...he swore she wore some sort of calming potion in her hair just to put him to sleep.

As he drifted off, he remembered that djinn costume she'd worn her last visit at Christmas. Soon, he was dreaming of her in the skimpy outfit granting wishes. It was little wonder that he woke the next morning in a good mood.


End file.
